


All I Really Want Is To Be Your (Bend Over) Boyfriend

by poisonivory



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Pegging, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 08:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonivory/pseuds/poisonivory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet night at home.  Well, relatively speaking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Really Want Is To Be Your (Bend Over) Boyfriend

James trudged through his front door with a groan of mingled relief and exhaustion. He loved his job, he really did. But finishing up an album could be grueling, and there were only so many hours of standing in a sound booth singing and being yelled at by Gustavo a man could take. His throat hurt, his ears hurt, and his legs were wobbly. All he really wanted to do was collapse into bed and sleep for about fourteen hours.

Camille was waiting for him in the living room. “Hi, baby. You look beat.”

James accepted the kiss she offered and sank gratefully down onto the couch. At least coming home exhausted was a lot more pleasant since he and Camille had gotten engaged and moved in together. Usually they had time for a romp or two in bed in the evenings, but right now James didn’t think he could move, let alone make love. “Extremely. Put me to bed and let me sleep for a year.”

Camille pouted. “Don’t you even want to open your present?” Suddenly a shiny, wrapped box with a big ribbon bow was sitting in her lap.

Presents were interesting. James perked up marginally. “You got me a present?”

“Well, you’ve been working so hard lately,” she said. “I missed your smile.” Reflexively, James flashed a Patented James Diamond Pop Star Smile at her. “That’s the one. Go ahead, open it.”

Sitting up properly, James untied the ribbon and tore the wrapper off the box. Camille wriggled with excitement next to him. That meant it was something good. A llama? No, probably not. The box was way too small, and they’d learned their lesson about giving animals as presents after the tragic death of Mr. Snuffles the guinea pig.

James lifted the lid off the box. Nestled on a bed of tissue paper lay a hot pink dildo, sleek and gently curved. A black harness was folded neatly beside it.

Well. That was _way_ better than a llama.

“Do you like it?” Camille asked as James stared at it. “We were talking about how hot it would be the other day, remember? And I just thought we could…you know…”

James grabbed her and kissed her. She squeaked but melted into his arms quickly, her hands coming up to tangle in his hair. James pulled back enough to look her in the eye. “I love it,” he said.

“I love _you_ ,” she replied, grinning. “So did you still want to go to sleep, or…?”

James’ response was to stand up and scoop Camille up over his shoulder. She laughed and grabbed the box before James headed for the bedroom, one hand on Camille’s thighs and the other on her butt – for crucial carrying purposes, of course, and not just because he liked touching her ass. “I’ll take that as a no?” she asked. He goosed her in retaliation, and she yelped and whacked him gently with the box.

In the bedroom, James set Camille down and she tossed the strap-on somewhere in the vicinity of the bed before wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him down into another kiss. “So did you have anything in particular in mind for this?” he murmured against her lips as his hands slid around her ribcage, trying to remember if the zipper for this dress was on the side or in the back.

“Lady admiral and naughty cabin boy?” she suggested. “Prize-winning cowgirl and rodeo clown? Hardnosed CEO and lazy executive assistant?”

“Ooh, Door Number Three, please,” he said. “And I like your nose.” He kissed the tip of it for good measure.

She beamed up at him. “Do you have the energy for costumes, or will you fall asleep in the closet?”

James considered. It was a pretty big closet. He’d fallen asleep in there several times, and once gotten lost for almost six hours. “Skip the costumes.”

“Deal.” Suddenly Camille’s smile vanished. She put her hands on James’ chest and shoved. He toppled onto the bed. “Johnson!” she barked, her voice a little deeper and more imperious than it usually was. “Have you finished copying those reports yet?”

James slid up the bed a bit, kicking his shoes off as he went. He accidentally sat on the strap-on, winced, and moved it to the side. Not quite yet. “Uh…I was going to do them now, Ms., uh…McBoss.”

He saw Camille wince. Names had never been his strong suit. “They were supposed to be done three weeks ago! I don’t pay you to sit around playing with yourself, Johnson!”

James bit back a laugh. “Are you going to fire me?”

Camille stroked her chin. “I’m seriously considering it. I mean, look at you! Jeans and a t-shirt? We have a dress code in this office, Johnson. Now take those off.”

James made his eyes as big and innocent as possible. “But then what will I wear?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “You should have thought about that before you decided to flout office regulations.”

James didn’t know what “flout” meant, but he knew a direct order when he heard one. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and pushed himself into a kneeling position. He drew his shirt slowly over his head, letting Camille get a good look. He was pretty sure his washboard abs had been the first thing that had attracted her to him, and he wasn’t about to let a chance to show them off go to waste.

“See?” Camille said as James tossed the shirt onto the floor and started working on the fly of his jeans. “You probably just lie around doing situps instead of working.”

That _was_ actually what James had done for the four hours he’d interned at Rocque Records for course credit before Gustavo had fired him. “Oh, no, Ms. McBoss. I work very hard.”

Camille snorted, but her gaze was locked on the wiggle of James’ hips as he eased out of his very tight jeans. “You’re full of it, Johnson. Now hurry up, I’ve got places to be.”

It took some rather ungainly maneuvering, but James finally managed to get out of his jeans. He kicked those to the floor too and waited, kneeling on the bed in his boxer briefs. “Did you want me to copy those reports now, Ms. McBoss?”

“Later,” Camille said. “First I want you to prove to me that you’re committed to this company.” She reached back, feeling for the zipper James hadn’t been able to locate, and unzipped it. Curving her shoulders forward, she gave a little wiggle, and her patterned sundress fell around her ankles. She stood there in a pile of fabric with her hands on her hips, in a lacy purple bra and mismatched panties, tiny and curvy and perfect and James loved her so much it hurt.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, forcing himself to play the game when all he wanted to do was scoop her onto the bed and worship her. “I’ll do anything, I’ll work overtime, only please don’t fire me!”

Camille climbed onto the bed, pushed James onto his butt, and straddled his lap. “I’m gonna need you to take one for the team, Johnson,” she said. “Can you do that?”

James bit the insides of his cheeks to keep the laughter in. “I’ll try, Ms. McBoss. I’ll try real har— _mmph_.” Camille kissed him, cutting him off, and he saw no reason to protest. He wrapped his arms around her slender waist and pulled her close. When she released his lips, he kept right on kissing her, making his way down over her throat and sternum to the soft pale skin between her breasts.

He slid one hand up to unhook her bra, a skill he was justifiably proud of. He’d mastered back clasps at age 14, and front clasps at 16, though sports bras had stymied him for a bit until the girl in question had explained that they didn’t _have_ clasps.

Camille’s was a simple two-hook number, and it fell away easily. James dropped it on the floor and forgot it in favor of lavishing attention on Camille’s breasts. He peppered them with kisses, teasing with his lips and tongue, and Camille buried her hands in his hair and let out a series of whimpers and sighs more beautiful than any symphony.

James had a musician’s ear. He knew.

“Mmm, Ja—Johnson,” she moaned softly, and James bit back a smile. Camille didn’t usually break character. “ _Johnson._ ”

He dragged his tongue over one sensitive nipple before looking up. “Yes, Ms. McBoss?”

“We… _oh_ …we don’t have time for this. Time is money,” she said, striving for briskness. “I said you’re going to take one for the team, and I mean it. Take these off.” She reached down and snapped James’ waistband, then climbed off his lap.

James shimmied out of his underwear and kicked them towards the pile on the floor. He was, unsurprisingly, already hard, and Camille gave him an approving look. “I see your name suits you, Johnson.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Richard Johnson.”

Camille quickly turned her head away, and James knew she was struggling not to laugh. “Well, Richie, you’ve got work to do. You’re my executive assistant.” She climbed off the bed, opened the drawer in their nightstand, and pulled out a bottle of lube. “Assist me.”

James caught the bottle as she tossed it at him. “What do you want me to do, Ms. McBoss?”

Camille picked up the dildo and harness. “I want you to prepare yourself. I want you to use your fingers to work yourself open, stretching yourself wide for me.” She smiled, slow and possessive. “And I want to watch.”

James swallowed, dick twitching at the thought, at the expression on Camille’s face. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and lay back, his knees bent, feet planted firmly on the mattress, and legs spread. Camille stood at the foot of the bed, far enough away to get a good view of the proceedings, and started working out the straps and clasps of the harness. Her attention, though, was fastened on James.

James opened the lube and poured a good amount onto his left palm, then clicked the bottle shut and set it aside. He slicked up his right fingers generously, then slowly dragged his left hand down his torso, wiping it mostly dry and leaving what he knew would be an enticing shine on his skin. From the way Camille bit her lip, it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

His other hand drifted down, past his aching erection and further, until his first two fingers were sliding across his perineum, seeking, searching. He made a soft noise as they slipped inside, and saw Camille’s tongue dart out to lick her lips, pink and delicate.

“Something wrong, Johnson?” she asked. “Or are you just finally learning the value of good hard work?” She stepped out of her panties as she spoke. James wished he was the one taking them off of her.

“Uh…the second one,” he said, sighing a little as he slowly pushed his fingers in deeper. His instinct was to close his eyes and focus on the feeling, but he wanted to keep watching Camille. “I want to work very hard for you, Ms. McBoss.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, fitting the dildo into the harness. “I’ll make sure you do.”

His fingers were buried as deep as they could go, and James gave himself a minute to get used to them before he started moving them in and out. Camille’s gaze was locked on his hand, on his ass, on the lean span of his torso and the motion of his arm. Knowing she was watching him, knowing she was appreciating the view, was the hottest thing that had happened yet, even better than the feeling of his own long fingers pushing in and out of him. “Thank you, Ms. McBoss.”

Camille said nothing, the dildo and harness dangling forgotten from her fingers as she watched him. James scissored his fingers, feeling himself relax and loosen around them. It had been a while since he’d had anything thicker than one or two of Camille’s slender fingers inside him, and he’d forgotten how good it could feel. He crooked his fingers, brushing against his prostate on the downstroke, and couldn’t help his moan.

“Good boy,” Camille murmured, and James blinked and refocused on her. Then he moaned again, louder, because Camille had gotten the harness on and was adjusting the straps. The black leather rested low on her hips and crossed high and tight just under her buttocks, gleaming dark against her pale skin. The dildo was a shocking pink against it, curving slightly upwards.

“Oh God, Camille…” James said, staring at her. “You look so…”

“Did I give you permission to use my first name?” Camille asked sternly, idly stroking the dildo. “Have you finished your job yet?”

Forcing himself to focus, James gave an experimental stretch with his fingers. He probably could stand a bit more preparation, but he didn’t think he could wait any longer. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” Camille asked, and for a minute she dropped the CEO voice and it was just Camille, worrying about him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m sure,” he told her. “I’ll be okay. Please.”

She shifted and the CEO was back. James could watch her go in and out of character for a lifetime and still never figure out how she did it. “Excellent,” she said. “It sounds like you’ve finally decided to show some dedication to this office. Hand me the lube, will you, Johnson?”

James pulled his fingers out and passed Camille the bottle. She climbed onto the bed and knelt in front of him, then poured a generous amount of lube over the dildo. Some dripped onto the bedspread, but messy sex had never been a problem for James and Camille, not with several bedrooms and a cleaning lady.

“Okay, Johnson,” she said, inching closer. The sight of her stroking the dildo as if it was part of her nearly made James’ brain short out. “Time to show me just what you’re made of.”

She leaned in and guided herself to James’ entrance. James tried to shift to a better angle, to help her without saying anything and thus breaking character, but it was hard to see and harder to reach. Finally they got things lined up and James felt a gentle pressure. He pushed back, eyes fluttering closed in anticipation, and felt Camille slide in, just the barest inch or so.

He grunted and Camille froze. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He forced his eyes open. “It’s good. Keep going.”

Slowly, slowly, Camille pushed deeper into him, brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to figure out pace and angle and thrust. James tightened his fists in the sheets, breathing hard as she filled him. It was a lot to take, after so long without anything that big inside him, but it felt good, and he knew that in a couple of minutes it would feel even better.

Finally Camille stopped, panting. James tried to look down, whimpering as he shifted on the mattress. He felt so full, every nerve ending focused on the sensation. “Are you all the way in?”

Camille nodded. “Yeah,” she breathed. “ _Fuck_ , that’s hot.”

“ _Move_ ,” he said, his voice a little strangled. “Please. Ma’am. Ms… _please_.” He couldn’t remember her fake name right now. He could barely remember his _own_ name. “Fuck me.”

Camille groaned, and slowly pulled back. James gasped, eyes closing again as Camille pulled almost all the way out, then pushed back in, just a little faster than before. “Again,” he panted.

Camille nodded and did it again, a little faster this time. She was getting the hang of it, figuring out how to thrust smoothly. James let her do the work, reveling in the sensation of being fucked and knowing it was _Camille_ doing it, _Camille_ taking him.

“Very _good_ , Johnson,” Camille managed once she’d found a slow but steady rhythm. “Are you starting to see just how rewarding a hard day’s work can be?”

James opened his eyes again and couldn’t help his moan. Camille was flushed, her hair wild, her breasts bouncing gently with every thrust. “Yes, fuck, yes…”

Time fell away, until all James knew was Camille, naked and beautiful, and the sound of her soft moans, and the deep satisfaction of having her inside him. He slid his hands over her hips, her sides, everywhere he could reach, groaning and babbling as the pleasure built.

He didn’t know how long it had been when Camille’s slender hand wrapped around his dick. He gasped, jerking up against her cock. “Fuck, Camille, please…”

“You ready to come for me, Johnson?” she panted, jerking him roughly in rhythm with her thrusts. “You ready to show me… _hh_ …your commitment… _unh_ …to this company?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he moaned, fists tangling in the sheets. “Fuck, yes, yes, I’ll do anything, don’t stop…”

“Come on, Johnson,” she commanded, her hand moving quick and sure over him, her hips driving still deeper. “Come on, _James_.”

She squeezed, and James shut his eyes and lost it, spilling hot and wet on his stomach. Camille fucked him through the aftershocks, each thrust sending another jolt of pleasure through him until he was spent and thrumming with release.

“You okay, baby?” she asked, petting his thigh.

James forced his eyes open. “Never better.” It was then that he noticed how flushed she was and how hard she was breathing. “Did you finish?”

She shook her head. “No. Close, but…no.”

James smiled lazily. “Do you want to?”

“ _Fuck_ yes.” Camille carefully pulled out of him, then struggled out of the harness, fumbling in her haste. She tossed the whole rig onto the floor and leaned in to give James a bruising kiss. Then James gave her a gentle tug, coaxing her forward until she was straddling his face, her hands – he could just barely see if he squinted – gripping the headboard.

He gave an experimental lick, grinning when Camille whimpered. God, she was so wet. He didn’t know if the dildo had been rubbing against her or if it was just from fucking him, but whatever it was, something had definitely been working for her.

He licked again, finding the spot that made her gasp and cry out, and set to work. He loved doing this, loved touching Camille and feeling her fall apart. Judging from the quiver in her thighs and the wavery note in her voice, it wouldn’t be long now.

“ _James_ ,” she moaned, Johnson and Ms. McBoss forgotten. “James, fuck, yes, right there… _ah!_ Oh, fuck, James…”

James sucked, stroking harder with his tongue, and Camille’s thighs tightened on either side of his head as she came, moaning and shaking above him. He licked her until she whimpered and sat back on his chest, breathing hard.

“Good?” he asked, licking his lips.

She gave him that look – the one that made his heart tighten in his chest, the one that always made him wonder how he’d gotten so lucky. “I love you.”

“I love you too, but I can’t breathe,” he wheezed, poking her thigh.

“Oh!” She scrambled off his chest and down, until she was lying stretched out alongside him. Well, as stretched out as someone as short as she was could get; he could feel her toes bumping his kneecaps.

He curled an arm around her. “We should clean up,” he said, though he really didn’t want to move.

“Meh.” She tucked her chin into the curve of his shoulder. “Did you like your present?”

He grinned. “It was _way_ better than a llama.”

She looked confused, so he kissed her until the confusion went away. “Well, good,” she said. She closed her eyes, and James bit back his own yawn. “Because I saw an even bigger one online…”


End file.
